Sunday, May 28, 2017

Hodgepodge 211/365 - Brian Doyle

Brian Doyle, a writer beloved of so many, died yesterday at age sixty after being diagnosed with brain cancer in late November. His "Final Prayer" started circulating on Facebook, and I posted it as well, and have reread it many times. It epitomizes his joyous life force so perfectly. I'm lazily including it here today because I will want to keep on rereading it, and I'll be able to find it here.

And finally (you can go find others: there are lots, many of them very short, though he wrote books also: he was prolific), "Joyas Voladores" (2003), about hummingbirds, sort of. Also whales. Mostly, though, about heart: the red thread that binds all his work.

Which brings me back to his

Final Prayer

Dear Coherent Mercy: thanks. Best life ever.

Personally I never thought a cool woman would come close to
understanding me, let along understanding me but liking me anyway, but
that happened!

And You and I both remember that doctor in Boston
saying polite but businesslike that we would not have children but then
came three children fast and furious!

And no man ever had better
friends, and no man ever had a happier childhood and wilder brothers and
a sweeter sister, and I was that rare guy who not only loved but liked
his parents and loved sitting and drinking tea and listening to them!

And You let me write some books that weren't half bad, and I got to
have a career that actually no kidding helped some kids wake up to their
best selves, and no one ever laughed more at the ocean of hilarious
things in this world, or gaped more in astonishment at the wealth of
miracles everywhere every moment.

I could complain a little right
here about the long years of back pain and the occasional awful
heartbreak, but Lord, those things were infinitesimal against the
slather of gifts You gave mere me, a muddle of a man, so often selfish
and small. But no man was ever more grateful for Your profligate
generosity, and here at the very end, here in my last lines, I close my
eyes and weep with joy that I was alive, and blessed beyond measure, and
might well be headed back home to the incomprehensible Love from which I
came, mewling, many years ago.

But hey, listen, can I ask one
last favor? If I am sent back for another life, can I meet my lovely
bride again? In whatever form? Could we be hawks, or otters maybe? And
can we have the same kids again if possible? And if I get one friend
again, can I have my buddy Pete? He was a huge guy in this life—make
him the biggest otter ever and I'll know him right away, okay? Thanks,
Boss. Thanks from the bottom of my heart. See You soon.